Holey Moley

[Octavian Purcell operates under the name Sorel Lissen, and this is reflected in his report.]

What miracle, I hear you exclaim to yourself already, I say what miracle is this that blesses these road-weary eyes of mine? Could this be the missing piece to the indiscrete puzzle of my life? The vital information that will keep my tired frame shuffling along through one more trek in the forsaken wilderness of this new world? The most accurate, comprehensive, congenitally insightful report into the horrors of the road to Dragonscale Peak?

In the interest of swiftly unburdening your mind of its anxious tremors, let me be forthright with you: yes, my friend, yes, it is all that. Better yet, it is only the first of many to follow, each of them destined to be a greater fount of wisdom than its predecessor, or my name isn't Sorel Lissen. Go to bed easily tonight, fellow adventurer, for your newest and greatest ally now watches over you.

Now, naturally, you will need forgive the occasional imprecision. I pen these words from the comfort of my room in First Landing, moments after our return most triumphant from the heights of the Peak itself. Though these past few days have been etched into my mind with the same skill and precision an illuminator might inscribe their books, some of the lesser moments have necessarily been worn away by the erosive qualities of their more vivid counterparts. I assure you, on my honour, that nothing of consequence has been omitted from this recount, and all that is presented here is as factually correct as it is essential to your continued survival.

Now then.

We begin our story as all stories should begin, with their beginning; any alternative attempt at chronology should be dismissed as irresponsible at best and deleterious at worst (place not your faith in time travellers). It behoves me to first introduce my companions in arms, without whose help I may have struggled to complete this enterprise so expeditiously. They are:

• The fair Scarlet Summer, whose small stature belies her prodigious resourcefulness as a peerless summoner, and her imposing eidolonic companion Elei, that most majestic of dragons.
• The stalwart Mechorn, whom I quickly came to rely upon for his inventive prowess of both fist and mind.
• The ever-grounded doctor Cayde Ingram, whose utmost devotion to my well-being, though occasionally just a trifle insulting, I came to see as a truer expression of companionship than I had thought possible.
• Our ever prudent barrister Samrat Gyani, whose professionally-refined caution ensured we stayed well clear of the great traps set by this world's monsters.
• The enigmatic but self-assured magus Zee, a light in the darkness of night, a sword in the heart of battle, our gloriously ophidian friend.
• And, finally, yours truly, Sorel Lissen. It would be low of me to dedicate this section to further flattery of myself, when my work already speaks sufficiently for myself, so I will say no more. 

It is through Desna's free-formed will that we were joined in this quest, manifesting in the form of one Timothy Ventura, local urchin, and tasked with that most solemn of tasks: the delivery of missives - In this case, a single package, proffered to famed mistwalker The Sun-Seller, to be delivered before the upcoming Tournament. Mystery was afoot from the very onset of this quest. Where was the Sunseller? Why was his presence so vitally desired? What cataclysmic mismanagerial practices had so overloaded the post office that it could not accomplish its sole function? We needed answers.

We found them at our watering hole of choice, the only one worthy of any mention - you know its name, I need not insult your intelligence by repeating its canine moniker here. Two people - one, an elven woman of considerable mystery colloquially referred to as Ya, and the other a financially insolvent youngster called Heff. These eagled-eyed scouts provided us with the essential information that the Sunseller had last been seen at no other place than the foreboding Dragonscale Peak.

You can imagine the shiver that ran down our collective spines at the mention of that dread name. Only my reassurance to the others that it was just a name, with nothing more to it, allowed for our nerves to steady enough to weather the next shock revelation: this Sunseller was a soul-thief. What, I hear you cry? The honoured participant to the Tournament, nothing more than a "coldhearted bastard" with "a smile that doesn't reach his eyes", to quote fearsome Ya? Yes, I confess - for a moment, my faith in this endeavour wavered. I commend Heff in this for identifying our disquiet to immediately clarify: our target was not a thief, but a merchant, a so-called "mistwalker", fond of esoteric dealings with us soilwalkers. Our concerns thus assuaged then, it became a simple matter of determining the route to our destination and setting out.

As there was valid concern that we would get lost on our way there, I donned my favoured quill and inked an exact replica of the established map of the continent available to us - so exact a replica, in fact, that I believe it improves on the original. But I will let you, the reader, be the judge - feel free to use this map in your own travels, but I must warn you that unauthorised reproduction of its imagery will be met with the harshest legal countermeasures deployable by mortalkind.

I see no need to further comment on this work, and neither did my party, who all silently and solemnly agreed that this would be our definitive document of reference for the travels to come.

We were ready! Or, at least, I thought we were - as it turned out, I had severely overestimated our party's collective athletic prowess. Naturally, being perfectly cognizant of my own limitations, I had already acquired a horse for myself, but the idea had not occurred to my fellow questers. Not to worry - I was all too pleased to direct them to the stables and ensure they were equipped with the finest mounts money could buy or rent. Now we were ready, and we set off at once.

Almost immediately we were beset by the wrath of the heavens themselves, and the sky swiftly worked up a torrential downpour to shower us with. The one rusted magical sword we had chanced upon in our travels proving itself a poor umbrella, we decided to take refuge in a nearby hovel, arriving just in time to escape the brunt of the storm. And in the depths of that cavernous abode, where all but I feared to tread, what should I discover?

(Those of you who are weak of countenance may wish to skip the next paragraph.)

I broke down the last remains of a collapsed cavern wall and came face-to-snout with a mole... a mole the size of a mountain. Yes, take a moment to re-read that last sentence. Your eyes do not deceive you. I witnessed the first known specimen of talpa sorela. And in its wide, wisdom-filled eyes, I instantly recognized a grand and beautiful soul, as it did in mine. Not a word was spoken, but in that one moment something far greater than words passed between us. We retreated in mutual respect of each other, and, by the mole's silent benediction, we slept peacefully throughout the night. On the morrow, there was no sign of the prodigious being, but I suspect it has not gone far (if you have paid for the premium version of this report, you will find my best guess at its current location attached).

The remainder of a journey was uneventful until we got within striking range of the mountain. Then did the mists we had been told to look out for begin to rise about us. For a moment, we dared to hope our quest neared its end, and that we were about to find our Sunseller. Hah! Yes, I'm sure you had a good chuckle at that too, and you would be right to mock our foolishness. For it was indeed not the Sunseller we chanced upon, but another mistwalker merchant by the name of Bauta. And what a store they ran! A veritably radiant lighthouse within the gloom of the mist, the very embodiment of Mistmas cheer, whatever that may be (perhaps one of the locals could enlighten me). And all items on sale for absurdly low prices - dear reader, would it shock you to learn I departed their store overloaded with finery, having not lost but gained gold in the process? Not to mention a lighter soul, freed of the naturally accumulated detritus of any richly-lived life. It was a veritable steal, and however high my teammates later redressed themselves in my eyes, at that time I could do little but see them as the uttermost of fools for refusing to make even the slightest of trades.

Ah, but no matter. Through my enterprise, I was able to secure the next vital set of clues to the Sunseller's location, and under the auspices of my newly annotated map, we proceeded onward with renewed vigour. Our climb of the mountain was set to begin in earnest when my watchful eyes spied the first true challenge to our cause - an ambush most fiendishly set by a fearsome carmine skelemorph and its friend, a betentacled octohornbeast (which, I later learned, is a kind of water elemental). The battle was hard-fought and hard-won, but our triumph was inevitable, and I can offer naught but praise for the valour of my companions. My own contributions to the melee were disappointingly minimal, regrettably, occupied as I was with my own exsanguination. From this shame, I do not walk away, and fully acknowledge my failings - to myself, to my group, and to you, dear reader. And yet, and yet! And yet I have every confidence that my next adventure will see me redeemed in your eyes, reader - you would be wise to carry on reading (and, as a reminder, subscribers get a 20% discount on each new report I publish).

At last, we arrived at that fated mountain. Now here, I must ask you a question, reader: would you agree with me that it is reasonable to expect down to remain down, and up to remain up? You would, wouldn't you? I knew I could count on you. Yes indeed, for what kind of foetid creature would twist such fundamental laws in service of some private jape? What monster would pitch their black-and-white tent halfway up a cavern's walls, in defiance of all that is right and dignified? For that is exactly what we found at the end of a trail of lights floating in the mountainside mist: an improbable shop, despicably inaccessible to those without a gift for heights. We all managed our way in, after some struggle, and who should we discover but the one we had sought this whole time, squat and fat. See my illustration below to have its form instantly, unambiguously clarified in your mind.

Aha!, I hear you cry, another giant mole! And indeed, in my drawing, it should be eminently apparent that I am depicting a mole. But to us weary and bloodied travellers, it was not immediately clear. Only my keen knowledge of all things zoological allowed me to pierce this merchant's amateurish disguise and expose its true form. Or, rather, its false form, as Bauta had warned us of this fiend's propensity to indulge in animalistic mimicry. And indeed, as without, so within, for our newest acquaintance revealed itself to be just as beastly as its appearance had suggested. Yes, this was The Sun-Seller, who immediately sought to sway the unwise among us and part them from those most valuable aspects of their being - their "sparks", as it called them. I regret to say that some of my companions - who I shall leave nameless - soiled their doctorly dignity by transacting with this deceiver. I can only pray Desna will protect their senseless souls in the perils to come.

But for all my disgust over this disreputable merchant, we had come here to do a job, and that is exactly what we did. The package was handed over, good-byes were exchanged, and after one last breath of fresh mountain air, I recalled myself and my horse back to my warm room back at First Landing, my soul filled with the satisfaction of a job well done, my bag with all the bargains I had secured.

Here ends my recounting of our travails. I hope you will agree, reader, that this has been a most valuable expenditure of your time, and that you emerge from the immersion of my storytelling a wiser being, far better prepared for the roads ahead. You can be assured that this is not the last you will read of me, for I have only just begun my new life here. Watch for my next work, and ensure all your fellows are similarly educated in the necessity of my reporting.

Until we meet again, I leave you with this quote: 'tis better to slowly tread one's road than to run and stumble on another's. Good night.

Day one

Initially we weren't affiliated, none of use knew each other despite being in the same place at the same time. That all changed when someone approached us, an individual named Timothy. He wanted us to deliver a package to someone named the Sunseller, within two weeks, before the tournament starts. Among us were a man named Zee, another man named Samrat, a Leshie named Scarlet, Scarlet's companion, Elei, a strange mechanical rhinoceros named Mechorn, a druid named Sorel, and myself, Cayde. The package was unmarked, and any questions ended with evasion and dismissal, so we collectively decided to not question it and deliver the package, it's a good opportunity to break out of our shell in the city, and get some experience while we're at it. Despite being tasked with finding the Sunseller, nobody involved knew how to find them, not even Timothy. The only clue we were given were the existence of two scouts at the Blinking Pug that had run into them a little bit ago. It took us a little to find them, and a close call with one of us trying to convince someone else that they were in fact the person we were looking for, but we did find them. The two were and Elven woman and a man with a supposedly Exorbitant amount of student loans, though when questioned on that detail we received no advice on how to discern the amount of student loans one has. As a doctor myself, the answer is in the eyes, the more sullen and tired they look, the more likely they are to have the requisite student loans. The woman insists on remaining unnamed, believing their mysteriousness to be of some importance, but the man introduced themselves as Heff. Heff was cooperative, more than happy to give us the information we sought, and after some convincing the mysterious elven woman helped too. They told us of Dragonscale Peak, and how they had encountered the Sunseller there. We were also given warnings of his demeanor, how he is allegedly coldhearted and unsettling, with a smile that doesn't reach their eyes. They apparently deal in souls, or parts of souls, however that works, but we got the information we needed. We were to head to Dragonscale Peak, angling ourselves to approach from the southeast like the two Scouts did, hopefully that would give us a higher chance of meeting them.

We encountered a problem before departing, and that was with our lack of map. Sorel attempted a draft of the map from the wall, which while spirited, lacked significant landmarks. I made my own copy, drafting only the details which we needed to get to Dragonscale peak, and we headed out of the Blinking Pug to make preparations to head off. There was an initial debate on the cost efficiency of renting horses, and while I was skeptical of the usefulness of a mount at first, eventually I decided to change my stance and purchase a horse outright, who I named Alion, which is Dwarvish for Friend. With our preparations done, we set out, all with mounts of our own.

Initially there was nothing of note, simply travelling through fields and hills, not even another traveler to share a passing nod with, but that all changed when Sorel detected something off to the side of the road with detect magic. Mechorn wanted to inspect it, and ended up lifting what looks to be a rusted blade out of the ground. I took interest, and took the time to appraise the item, which yielded interesting results. The sword is in disrepair, but has the properties of a relic with the capability of generating an electric charge. It's a fixer upper, but no doubt this will be a good addition to the arsenal of whoever it ends up with. During our little stop, Zee and Scarlet both picked up on subtle changes in the atmosphere, both predicting that precipitation would be happening soon. We pressed onward though, hoping to be able to find shelter before we encountered the precipitation that may or may not happen.

Sure enough, the weather took a turn for the worse, what started as soft rain quickly bloomed into a thunderstorm, but we were able to find shelter before the worst of it hit. We encountered a Hovel, ushering everyone inside so we could set up camp for the night, including a fire and a small feeding station for the horses. Zee, Samrat, and Mechorn wanted to scout out the cave out of an abundance of caution, which there was no objection to, but Sorel, Scarlet and I elected to stay behind, during which I prepared a few elixirs with my free time to hand out to everyone.

Good news! And by that I mean the universe has kept the status quo and potentially screwed us over. It turns out there was indeed something in the hovel, and Mechorn believes it to be far more powerful than we can manage. Currently Sorel was being a bit overconfident in our ability to face it, and had gone with Zee to see what it is. In any case, I hoped we wouldn't bite off more than we can chew with this, the last thing we want is to falter before we even got to where we were going. Luckily once they returned they too elected to leave it alone, hoping it would leave us in peace as we did it. After a bit of strategizing, and passing out the potions I made, we all settled down for some sleep, though we made sure to arrange watches so nothing could get the jump on us.

Day 2

Fortunately there were no incidents in the night, the mole that was found didn’t wake up, or at least didn’t go after us if it did. We were able to prepare and get on our way without incident, and there was no incident till we actually got to the Base of Dragonscale Peak as we had planned. Initially there was nothing, but before we knew it we were in the middle of some dense mist. Strangely enough the mist was rising from the ground, which is quite a strange phenomenon, but this was the proper indicator that the Sunseller was nearby. Once we confirmed this indicator, we began to seek out the Sunseller in this mist, all hopeful that our journey would come to a much faster end than expected. Sure enough, we did find someone, though the Sunseller they were not. Rather, they were a strange being simply known as Bauta, with wares that were strangely well suited for all of our needs. Purchases could be made in coin and aspects of our being, most of us opted to use the second option, however that does not extend to Sorel. Sorel purchased several items, and information regarding the Sunseller, choosing to give up his ability to recognize radial and axial symmetry, his night time proprioception, his love of Eclairs, all memories of his grandparents, his ability to accurately estimate the width of chasms, his capacity for nostalgia, his ability to ‘get a bad feeling about this’, the space in his mind where ideas live rent free, and an unspecified favor to be performed an unknown amount of time into the future.

In light of this, Sorel is not to be put on the night watch under any circumstances, and he is not to be delegated to when matters of risk are being discussed. Likewise, when around chasms of any sort we must be sure to leave him attended at all times, and any spontaneous ideas he has are to be taken with a grain of salt and compared to what we know about Bauta. However, he may be a good source for information that hasn’t been written down or recorded otherwise, seeing as he lacks rose tinted glasses, at least when it comes to nostalgic topics.

However, we did get information on the Sunseller from this. They are currently within the Dragonscale Mountains, so they can make sales to the kobold population residing there. Apparently the Sunseller has the propensity to mimic animals, which isn’t particularly relevant, but it is a fun fact. Another fun fact is that this disgusts Bauta and others of their kind,which is evident both from their admission to it, and their misanthropic comments. The Sunseller is supposedly near large animal populations, whether this is some xenophobic way to refer to kobolds or not is unknown. We’ll be able to tell when this same mist forms around us up there, which we now know directly rises from the ground, even when it is not able to naturally do so.

Once we set out, it didn't take long to find a path leading up into the mountain range, it was smooth sailing until we encountered something a bit too similar to what we sought. We were ambushed, kind of, they tried to get the drop on us but failed to. Some red thing and a creature that constantly shrouded itself in most, but most certainly different from the mist we were looking for.

The fight was quick, less than a minute, I burned through more of my bombs than I would have liked, and Zee took a few too many hits. Luckily he survived, after administering an elixir I've let him be, but I'll be keeping a close eye on his condition. Scarlet took a hit I think, but didn't complain. I don't particularly understand Leshy biology, but I think my elixirs should work if needed. Now that the fight is done, we can proceed, hopefully we'll find the Sunseller before the day is out.

Good News! This time I actually mean it, we found a cave that matches all of the criteria we’re looking for, and there’s even a tent in here! It seems to have been teleported somehow, seeing as the entrance is well over a dozen feet in the air, and gravity is sideways when entered. We got up thanks to Sorel hammering a piton into the wall to lower a fastened rope, and the place is in obvious disrepair. Items are all over the place, nothing is sorted, and Sorel seems to be having some kind of argument with the supposed Sunseller. Once we confirmed the person to be the Sunseller, we handed the package over, mission complete! Beyond that, everyone is browsing his wares and after that we’ll head back using the recallers. I personally traded ten gold and my inspiration for two days in exchange for the formula for dwarven daisies, as well as a sample of them, which in my mind is a fair trade. Other than that, all that's left is to return.